REVIEW: Kidd Pivot and the Electric Company

Sitting in the audience of the Power Center, I soon realized how distant this show was from any previous theater experiences I’d had before. The show began looking into the set of a vaguely warehouse-esque room with a column in the middle, and the first thing to happen was the movement of electrical cords, spreading apart to opposite ends of the stage. Almost ghost-like, they seemed to move on their own accord and there was no indication where the movement was coming from. This first minute was when I began to question what I had entered into for the next two hours. As I searched for words and footholds into this piece, something to describe and relate to it, the closest mainstream theater description I could find became the musical Chicago meets psychological-thriller-horror-movie. Think jazz numbers and spangled costumes mixed with the anticipation of brutal plot twists and fear. The lack of footholds to grasp onto in the piece, though, seems characteristic of new age-y modern expressionism. It is the interiority of the creator depicted onto the stage, meant to make the audience think and contemplate, not merely for surface-level enjoyment. A potential, and possibly more accessible, dance comparison that kept coming to mind throughout the performance was the “Slip” video that circulated the internet about while ago.

Both the slippery, interconnected choreography and the eery industrial set (with flickering fluorescents and all) is quite similar in style to that of Betroffenheit. The first act of the production mixed theater and dance together, with very little dialogue. In a premonitory twist, a strobe-light warning was issued before the show began; as it progressed, the production itself became a strobe effect. A bombardment of the senses, I continually felt that just as I had regained my balance and was beginning to understand, I was quickly thrown off, left reeling and scrambling back into the show.

Image c/o Kidd Pivot

The show was an exploration in the experience of trauma, and though it held the aforementioned eery quality, it was not exclusively a dark production. A bright and exciting cha cha-esque number was thrown in, along with a series of tap and vaudevillian pieces.

The second act was more of a dance production than theater, focusing on the choreography of Crystal Pite. Her work in Betroffenheit was mesmerizing; almost pedestrian with liquid-like partnering work that featured the breadth and skill of the performers more so than the first act had. While I struggled to grip and understand the first act’s interpretation and representation of emotional exploration, I loved the emotion and expression through the choreography.

Image c/o UMS

As I listened to the reactions of those sitting around me, many people were in love with Kidd Pivot and the Electric Company’s work. Many also seemed as though this style of performance was not outside their wheelhouse. Betroffenheit, from my interpretation, seemed like a show best suited for those saturated within the dance and experimental performance community – those who are constantly looking at and working with this genre of material. While I, as an outsider, could appreciate and enjoy pieces of it, I feel as though the powerful and soul-stirring impact was somewhat lost on my uninstructed-self.

REVIEW: Song of the Sea

Song of the Sea is an enchanting story that addresses family, loss, and closure through the lens of an animated fantasy drama. Directed by Tomm Moore, who is known for Academy Award nominee The Secret of Kells (2009), the magical tale of Song of the Sea follows the adventure of a 10-year-old Irish boy named Ben and his mute sister, Saoirse, a selkie — a mythological creature of Irish folklore that is human on land and a seal in water.

The story begins with a little background behind Ben and Saoirse’s family. Suffering the loss of their mother, Bronagh, their family struggles to be happy. Ben blames his sister for their mother’s passing, Saoirse longs for the love of her broken family, and their father, Conor, still struggles with the loss of his wife. When Ben and Saoirse discover her magical abilities, the two find themselves on a journey to save all the faeries in the land with the “Song of the Sea,” a song of healing that only the selkie can sing.

For those of you who have seen and marveled at the beauty of The Secret of Kells (2009), Song of the Sea proves itself to be even more beautiful. Although at times the story may be a little hard to follow, the breathtaking art and intricate details of the film captivates the audience and keeps them engaged.

The animation is entirely hand drawn and 2-dimensional, playing with the depth of the scenery by overlaying parts of the background with the characters on screen. Almost like a fairy tale book in the form of animated cinema, Song of the Sea is imaginative and beautifully crafted. The animation sequences are fluid and careful, drawn with precision and a kind of gentle softness that draws our eyes, and it becomes enchanting to watch.

Apart from the art, the characters in this film are also very representative of the different ways people deal with loss. The magical characters draw parallels with human counterparts, expressing a variety of ways that people mourn and reasoning with the harmful consequences that they might bring. Macha, the owl witch, promises to take away the pain and suffering by petrifying those who are hurt, even petrifying her own son to save him from the pain. However, Song of the Sea proves that bottling up your emotions and removing yourself from your feelings is not as helpful as we hope it to be.

Song of the Sea inspires its audience to find closure during times of loss and mourning through love and acceptance. The very end of the film brings about the closure the family desperately needed. After Ben and Saoirse’s journey brings them home to their father’s lighthouse, they realize their cooperation and love for each other saves them and their family, as well as all of the endangered faeries and mythological creatures.

Here’s the official summary for the film: “In this enchanting new story from the Academy Award-nominated director of The Secret of Kells, Ben and his little sister Saoirse—the last Seal-child—must embark on a fantastic journey across a fading world of ancient legend and magic in an attempt to return to their home by the sea. The film takes inspiration from the mythological Selkies of Irish folklore, who live as seals in the sea but become humans on land.”

REVIEW: Music for 18 Musicians

A standing ovation after Reich’s Music for 18 Musicians

Last night, Hill Auditorium throbbed with the pulsing patterns, reverberating rhythms, and crunchy chords of the one and only Steve Reich. The seats were packed with fans (and critics) of the Pulitzer-Prize winning composer for the UMS premieres of Reich’s music by Chicago-based ensembles Eighth Blackbird and Third Coast Percussion, in celebration of the composer’s eightieth birth year.

As a special, pre-concert treat, three student ensembles from U of M’s School of Music performed in the lobbies of Hill Auditorium prior to the concert. The University of Michigan Western African Drumming Ensemble brought Reich’s polyrhythmic roots to life, while a student jazz quartet covered John Coltrane’s Africa, a work that influenced the composer’s perception of rhythmic and harmonic possibilities. A student violin quartet performed Reich’s Violin Phase, a difficult piece that involves one of Reich’s trademark techniques, phasing, in which players purposefully fall gradually out of sync with one another in order to bring rhythmic and polyphonic complexity to the texture. All three performances were extremely impressive and drew sizable crowds. I only wish that they hadn’t overlapped so that I could have fully enjoyed all three.

The concert itself began with Steve Reich’s Sextet, performed by all four members of Third Coast Percussion with guest percussionist Matthew Duvall and pianist Lisa Kaplan. Although these were the performers’ “official” titles, that did not restrict Reich from calling on the percussionists to play piano parts, or the pianists to play synthesizers. The players moved around the labyrinth of a setup and traded around instruments with ease, while the music flowed so naturally that these transitions were hardly noticeable. The structure of the piece was as regular and predictable as it was surprising, which made for a very satisfying auditory experience. This performance was certainly deserving of the ovation it received.

The second half of the concert held what everyone had come to see: Music for 18 Musicians. The piece is notoriously demanding due to its significant length and the sheer man- (and woman-)power it requires, which explains why it is not performed often. The fact that 18 players (or in this case, 19––the ensemble chose to have four full-time female vocalists, rather than having one double on piano), were able to stay so in sync with one another without a conductor was astounding.

The piece is about an hour long, which allows plenty of time for the audience to engage in deep focus and/or distracted contemplation: there are moments when you consider checking how much time has passed, but there’s something too special and soothing about letting yourself remain suspended in oblivion; you’re tempted to doze off on the shore of this ocean of sound, but you also want to hold on tightly to every musical moment before it disappears from right under your nose; you wonder when the piece will be over, but you’re terrified of this sweet, unadulterated regularity coming to an end. The dynamic swells that run throughout the entire piece are like a breeze passing through a dense forest, making the leaves shimmer and the sweat on your brow sparkle. All 19 musicians achieved such a deep level of focus, intentional musicality, and personal connection with the music, themselves, and the audience that it was hard to walk out of that auditorium feeling nothing.

Ann Arbor was extremely fortunate to have Eighth Blackbird, Third Coast Percussion, and their guest co-performers come together for this special evening of sound from an undeniably significant composer. Whether or not I finally get Music for 18 Musicians out of my head, I won’t be forgetting this concert for a long time.

 

After performing Reich’s Sextet

REVIEW: Marie Antoinette

Before looking at the details of the production, I was intrigued by the subject matter. Marie Antoinette is rife with history and controversy when looking at both political and cultural issues. The play highlights the role of a woman in a characteristically male world. Arguably, it is her who has claimed the spotlight of history, surpassing any of her male counterparts in notoriety. I also admire the work of the RC Players in putting a female story on the stage, with an all-female production crew.

Before attending this performance, the production of this play had me concerned. Marie Antoinette has become synonymous with opulence, luxury, and material excess, yet the RC Players’ performances are often stripped down to the essentials when it comes to sets and costuming. According to the program, the show was put together in three weeks, a feat even for a minimalistic play. Despite the time crunch, the show was filled with costume changes and a shifting set that worked to illustrate the frivolity of Marie Antoinette’s world.

Image c/o RC Players: Marie Antoinette

My absolute favorite part, hitting me right as the play began, was the play’s “soundtrack”. I’d recommend reading this article with ABBA’s “Head Over Heels” playing in the background, which – following in the guise of Marie Antoinette – I’ve claimed as my new life accompaniment. The play transitioned to the sounds of 60s/70s pop and soul music, including Nancy Sinatra and The Ronettes, as well as featuring the songs of Edith Piaf (can anything art form covering French subjects really leave her out?).

The play looks at the artifice and self-involvement of the French court during the reign of Marie Antoinette. The dialogue was held in an octave above comfort, saturated with pompousness and narcissism only too available when detailing 18th century French court. I tried to allot some sympathy for the plight of the subjects, and many-a-time I came close, only to have it dashed to pieces by a childish and shallow comment. As David Adjmi’s play looks at history through a contemporary lens, it became necessary to contemplate today’s society. Adjmi’s representation of Marie Antoinette was not as a political figure, but a candy-coated, diamond-encrusted celebrity that could easily fit into today’s mold. Really, even today, are these two roles explicitly different anymore? I found myself looking to the servants on the sidelines of the play; non-speaking roles, yet I could identify with their silence the most. Forced to serve the whims of the aristocratic, the subtle eye rolling served to give me some grounding among an otherwise shallow cast-of-characters. Even as the tears of Marie Antoinette, as she stood at the guillotine, were echoing off the stage I couldn’t completely align myself with her. This, though, is the legacy of Marie Antoinette. History both feels for her and detests her. She has become wrought with much more nuance and controversy, both positive and negative, than other casualty of the French Revolution.

REVIEW: The Vagina Monologues

By the start of Saturday’s show, the Vagina Monologues had raised over $2,500 for Safe House, which was wonderful to hear. There were far more women than men in the audience–either it was the subject material, or maybe it was because the men were too busy watching the latest NCAA Tournament game.

The show was split into two halves: the first half consisted of students on campus telling their stories, and the second half a rendition of Eve Ensler’s play of the same name. Out of respect for the women in the first half, I won’t post any quotes or pictures. Instead, a checklist of things I gathered:

  1. Found out what the clitoris is
  2. That virginity is a social construct meant to control women
  3. PCOS (polycistic ovary syndrome) makes you have irregular periods, and makes it really hard to lose weight
  4. There is a huge lack of women and diversity in Hollywood (duh)
  5. Don’t spray perfume up your vagina!
  6. Just because you enjoy Anime doesn’t mean you have yellow fever (probably)
  7. Don’t hook up with girls and then refuse to date them
  8. Don’t refuse to take girls out to eat, but then offer to eat them out later
  9. No means no.

The second half–Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues–was in a way more concise than the previous monologues. This was partly due to the fact that each monologue was actually from a compendium of interviews Ms. Ensler had conducted with over 200 women in preparation for the play.

Some stories were raunchier than others, some were funny and some were so serious that the Rackham Amphitheater got so quiet you could hear the breaths of the people in the audience.

One women said the word cunt, and then kept repeating cunt, as well as words that were related and/or sounded like cunt.

Another woman was obsessed with making other women happy, so she stopped being a lawyer to become a sex worker that worked only for women. She was a dominatrix that loved hearing women moan, and the audience received quite the description of the different moans she had heard from various women.

There was only one moment when I felt the urge to “man-splain” something. Regarding Pap smears, one woman wondered aloud why she had to wear a papery apron instead of a velvet robe, and why they used such uncomfortable instruments rather than something else more pleasurable. If Pap smears were like that, the hospital bill would probably be a lot higher than it currently is for the procedure. But alas, I am a graduate student in a physiology program, so medical things stand out to me.

Overall, the Vagina Monologues is a worthwhile event to go to, especially if you are a man. Although not as provocative as it might have been in a more conservative town, the Vagina Monologues is still a raunchy, R-rated show that can help you expand your horizons if you let it.

 

 

REVIEW: Beauty and the Beast

This year’s remake of Beauty and the Beast revives a classic story with which most of us are familiar, in which the young Belle sacrifices herself for a life of captivity in order to save her father, only to end up falling in love with her captor. Long ago cursed by an enchantress, this prince has been trapped in the form of an animal-like Beast, and his household servants have been turned into animated pieces of furniture. Belle befriends the furniture, falls for the Beast, and ultimately helps defend the isolated castle against the attack of the villagers, led by her own scorned lover, Gaston.

When I got to the theater, I was worried that all of the good seats might be gone, but we ended up being surprised: There were so many available showtimes and theaters that everyone was able to get in without a problem. The theater we ended up in was huge and filled with audience members of all ages.

I ultimately thought the movie was really entertaining. Everyone left the theater talking about how much this version had lived up to their expectations, and making comparisons between this and the classic animated movie. These comparisons are definitely fair, especially considering how so many of us grew up with that movie.

Personally, I thought this version was a worthwhile new addition to the legend. It didn’t contribute a ton of meaning that wasn’t already there in the first one, but it was fun to see the story brought to life in live action, and it did fill in the plot hole about what happened to Belle’s mother so many years ago. It was satisfying to see LeFou’s true feelings for Gaston recognized, and the animation of the furniture and the Beast himself worked terrifically alongside the rest of the human characters. Not to mention a girl falling in love with an animal can be a hard thing for some people to get behind, but Emma Watson and Dan Stevens did such a convincing job with the love story that by the time we got to the famous dancing-in-the-ballroom scene, everything made perfect sense.

The music was also terrific. The cast is full of talented singers, and I hadn’t paid much attention to the lyrics of the older version when I was younger, but listening to them made me understand the story a lot better this time. I couldn’t get enough of Mrs. Potts (Emma Thompson), the doting but strong teapot who looks after Belle when she is at her most uncertain, or Lumiere (Ewan MacGregor), the candlestick who retains a good attitude despite being trapped in this castle for so many years.

I ultimately found this to be a really enjoyable movie experience. It’s touching, thought-provoking, and just plain fun to watch, and anyone looking for a good retelling of this classic story is in for their money’s worth.